


The Patient & His Nurse

by for_a_while_now



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Adultery, Coma, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/for_a_while_now/pseuds/for_a_while_now
Summary: A few months after his thirty-eighth birthday, Seung-gil Lee found himself the victim of a nearly fatal car crash, which left him comatose inside of his city’s largest hospital. But when he wakes, it is no cause for celebration.
Relationships: Lee Seung Gil & Min So Park, Phichit Chulanont/Lee Seung Gil
Comments: 11
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

A few months after his thirty-eighth birthday, Seung-gil Lee found himself the victim of a nearly fatal car crash, which left him comatose inside of his city’s largest hospital. 

_ 8:47 am, September 24, 2018 _

* * *

As soon as Phichit Chulanont sat down, with phone and coffee in separate hands and with a bagel held firmly between his teeth, his co-worker, Yvette, entered the hospital break-room, her hands similarly full with her own breakfast.

“You’re needed in the ICU, Phich,” she said, while she herself sat down to munch on a bagel. Phichit sighed, took a large bite of his own breakfast, licked off some strawberry cream cheese from around his mouth, and headed to the intensive care unit. He already knew which room to go to.

* * *

Seung-gil’s wife, a stern-faced thirty-nine year old woman by the name of Min-so Park, had already grown quite tired of her husband’s hospital room after having stayed there since dawn. At 3 am that morning, she received a call saying that Seung-gil had nearly died in a car wreck. She was worried, yes, but she was also curious. What had her husband been doing out at that time on a Sunday morning? 

She got up and stretched her legs, then sat back down. She tilted her head to look out the window, which was futile for she saw nothing interesting enough to be distracting. She sighed, restlessness growing. If she had been any other woman, she might have been crying her eyes out. She laughed to herself. _ What a stoic pair Seung-gil and I make _ , she thought, chuckling bitterly. The last time they had been in a hospital room like this together was when their son, Ye-jun, had gotten an appendectomy a little over a year ago. Both of them had been quite worried after Ye-jun’s school called Min-so during work, saying that he was feeling very ill and that their little boy was in too much pain to play during recess. Min-so and Seung-gil rushed to the hospital and held each others’ hands tightly while waiting for the operation to be over. The pediatric surgeon who performed the appendectomy had been pleasantly surprised to see that such loving parents handled being told that their son would have to stay overnight in the hospital considerably well. Later that night, however, Min-so silently, secretly wept herself to sleep, hoping her dear son hadn’t suffered too much. Worrying that he was scared to be all by himself in a sterile hospital room. Seung-gil pretended that he didn’t notice, whether because he didn’t want to embarrass her or because he wasn’t sure how to console her. He wasn’t sure of it himself.

Similarly, when Seung-gil let Ye-jun miss school the next day and took him to play at the park and to eat ice cream, Min-so didn’t say anything.

Right now, Ye-jun was at a family friend’s house. Min-so didn’t want him to be stuck at the hospital while she had to fill out paperwork. She also wanted to protect him from seeing his father in a comatose state… 

“Seung-gil,” she said aloud, reaching for his cold, limp hand. “Please wake up for our baby. He’ll miss you so, if you leave us…” 

But, of course, his hand did not squeeze back and therefore offered her no true solace.

* * *

Phichit gave a tiny knock to the door upon entering the room. As he stepped in, he realized that the patient’s wife had been sleeping, which was understandable, given the time at which she woke that morning. Her sleeping head was held atop a pillow of her and Seung-gil’s hands, which she let go of, noticing the visitor. Stretching drowsily, she blinked at Phichit, watching him check the state Seung-gil was in. 

“Hello, Mrs. Lee --” Phichit was interrupted.

“Mrs. Park.” She said, correcting him reflexively. Despite having grown up in the United States, Min-so preferred to keep her maiden name, as per Korean custom.

“Oh, sorry. Mrs. Park… We’re going to have to put your husband on a ventilator to help him breathe.”

Min-so nodded.

“Later, we’ll need to perform a CT scan, too, to see the extent of the brain trauma he suffered. Then, they’ll decide if he needs any surgery, but currently, he’s in a stable condition.”

“How long do you think he’ll be like this, Nurse?”

“It’s hard to say right now -- that’s a better question for Dr. Celestino. But he doesn’t have any broken ribs, and he has hardly any brain swelling. That’s very fortunate for someone who’s been in this type of car wreck.”

Min-so nodded. 

“Do you think it would okay to bring my son to see him like this? He’s only eight years old, and I -- ” her voice trailed off for a second, and Phichit was afraid she might cry. She didn’t. “If Seung-gil doesn’t wake up, I’m afraid that this is how he’d remember his dad.”

“I understand your concerns, Mrs. Park, but I’m afraid I can’t answer that question. That’s a decision that is wholly yours to make, ma’am.”

Min-so sighed, nodded.

“I understand,” she said. 

“I, or another nurse, will be back within the hour to check on Mr. Lee again. Make sure to get yourself some lunch from the cafeteria. I hear they’re serving spaghetti today,” Phichit gave her a smile and sent as much warmth as he could convey in his relatively impersonal words. This woman practically oozed worry, and Phichit could sense a sort of hopeless glint in her eye. This was a woman who had dealt with loss before, he could sense it. Phichit wanted to cheer her up.

He succeeded and the woman smiled back at him.

He glanced at his watch, realizing he hadn’t even had half a bagel to eat that day. He felt his stomach growl and thought maybe  _ he _ would go and get himself some spaghetti.

* * *

Two days had passed, and Min-so had begun to miss two things rather dreadfully: her bed, and much more importantly, her son. She had spent the last two nights in the chair next to her husband’s bed, and she had grown lonely and even more restless. Ennui was the only other conscious being in that room with her, and with each passing hour, it grew stronger and more obtrusive. Of course, she worried and prayed over her husband, but that maternal instinct that drew a woman to want to have her child in her care won out. Besides, not much had changed with his condition, and Min-so was one to persevere in times of grief. It wasn’t in her nature to sit in one place too long, wallowing in sadness and self-pity. 

_ Pick yourself up _ , she thought, gathering her overnight bag, and sliding on her shoes. She stayed at Seung-gil’s bedside a little longer, though, combing his hair out of his face with her hands and giving him soft, sweet kisses on his forehead and lips.  _ If Seung-gil were conscious,  _ she wondered,  _ would he even kiss me back? Would he hold me, and tell me not to cry? _ In her heart, Min-so knew the answer to her own questions, and wept the way one does when overwhelmed by the intrusive and suffocating sadness that one feels when they know that their lover doesn’t love them anymore. 

Deep inside, however, Min-so’s tears were also those of guilt. She knew that if Seung-gil were awake, she would not want him to kiss her anyway.


	2. The King & His Skater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit and Chris have something that goes even deeper than a friends-with-benefits arrangement -- or so Phichit wants to believe. It seems, though, that Chris's fickle affection might just push his lonely lover further away.

Phichit and Chris had what could be called a “special” arrangement. Phichit’s closest friend, Yuuri, disapproved of it, saying that Chris treated Phichit like a mere booty-call instead of an actual boyfriend, and in all honesty, Phichit knew that Yuuri wasn’t wrong. Embarrassingly enough, it had gotten to the point that whenever Chris found himself in Detroit, he would, much more often than not, end up sleeping with Phichit. The routine wasn’t well-loved by Phichit -- back when he turned twenty-five, he had decided that he would give up on casual sex and dating -- he was looking to be happily married by his early thirties. To his dismay, however, there was something about Chris that caused him to forget about all that. Yuuri hypothesized that it had to do with the fact that Chris was a world-famous, professional skater, and so it boosted Phichit’s ego that he was attracted to him. Deep down, Phichit knew Yuuri was right. But he felt there might have been more to it than that.

Tonight, Yuuri and Phichit were supposed to hang out, watch a movie, and pig out on pizza as though they were a pair a teenagers and not adults with careers and obligations. They made an effort to do so once every other month out of fear that they might drift apart as they grew older. But tonight: 

“Phich, I asked you to order pineapple on the pizza,” said Yuuri frowning.

“Yeah, but that’s disgusting! I couldn’t bring myself to betray God and all that’s good on this earth by ordering that atrocity.”

“You’re being dramatic. Phich, this is the second time in a row. Next time,  _ I’ll _ order it, and I won’t get those yucky mushrooms that you love so much. It’s what you deserve.”

“But Yuuuuuuri,” Phichit whined, “It’s not my fault you have the taste buds of a child and can’t handle the tastiness and savor of the mushroom --” As Phichit playfully insulted his friend, his phone buzzed, and both he and Yuuri looked to see who was calling. 

‘Well, speaking of children,” Yuuri quipped. Phichit shushed him and rolled his eyes, answering the phone.

“Hi, Chris! What are you up to tonight?” Yuuri listened to the conversation, then got up to get his stuff together, figuring that he would be kicked out because Chris, presumably, would be coming over to Phichit’s place. He was  _ not _ going to be the third-wheel tonight, like he had been a hundred times too many during college, back when it seemed like Phichit had a new boyfriend every month. Yuuri admired -- not envied -- his friend’s outgoing personality that made it so that Phichit never stayed single for long. However, most guys found Phichit appealing not for his personality, but for his handsome, lean body that was still as small as it had been back when he was a competitive skater who practiced for several hours a day.

“Yeah, you can totally come over for a couple nights, Chris. Yuuri’s over here, too. We were gonna find some dumb movie to watch and eat pizza.” Yuuri quirked his head, listening closer. Phichit  _ wasn’t _ going to kick him out in order to sleep with Chris?  _ What a surprising turn of events _ , he thought.

“No, you aren’t intruding at all! Yuuri’s totally fine with you coming over, right, Yuuri?” Phichit put the phone on speaker and stared at Yuuri expectantly.

“Yeah, Chris. You should totally come over.” Phichit looked at Yuuri with that expression of not-quite-disappointment that one gives a friend who lies unconvincingly. Chris came over, and Yuuri avoided letting anyone see how he winced when Phichit and Chris cuddled during the movie. 

* * *

Later that night, Phichit and Chris moved into Phichit’s bedroom, leaving Yuuri to sleep alone in the pillow fort they had made in the living room. They lay down in bed, Chris wrapping his arms around Phichit’s sides, the same way he did when they were younger. When they were  _ both _ skaters. Back then, Phichit had felt like they were perfectly matched. They had been near equals, on and off the ice. By the time Phichit was an up and coming figure in the skating world, Chris already had a steady career and solid reputation. Phichit was Thailand’s prince on the ice, but after what turned into a mediocre skating career and a business failure in his home country, Phichit no longer felt like he could match Chris as an equal in their relationship. While Chris was ending his career in competitive skating as he approached his thirties and began performing in ice shows internationally, Phichit was just completing his nursing license in America, after leaving Thailand out of fear of being viewed as an international failure. Phichit never let anyone know how he felt about his failed career and business endeavor, but he never thought he had to. Everyone could tell anyway. He was one of those people who smiled and consoled others all while doing the same for himself, inwardly.

“Hey, Phich,” Chris mumbled, exhuming his face from the crook of Phichit’s neck where it had been buried. “I’ve been thinking about settling down, once and for all. Maybe we could try opening up a rink -- together, this time. Since I’d be staying here for good, we could even think about moving into a house together… you know, the way we dreamt of when we were both still competitive?”

“Really?” Phichit’s heart soared. He rolled over and faced Chris, pulling him into a tight hug and planting kisses on his face as though he were trying to start a garden. “I would love that, actually. I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”   
“Really?” It was Chris’s turn to ask aloud. “I never thought I was good enough for you, Phich. Given my reputation and all…”

“Hush,” said Phichit, not wanting to think about the past anymore. He lifted himself onto his knees, straddling Chris. He leaned down again and kissed him again, more eagerly this time. Chris smiled against Phichit’s warm mouth, pleased to know that he was exactly what Phichit wanted at the moment. Luckily, Phichit was exactly who he wanted, too.

In hindsight, however, perhaps it would have been better for them to have done more talking about what they wanted for their futures that night.


	3. Difficult & Indefinite Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the loving couple that once was Seung-gil and Min-so, the only thing that now held them together was their only son, Ye-Jun. So, how is this much-beloved boy handling his father's absence?

Ye-jun looked up at his school’s principal with apologetic eyes. This was his second time in the principal’s office in the past three weeks.Today, Ye-jun had picked fun at another student who had gotten a poor grade on a math assignment. Three weeks ago had been the first time he had gotten in trouble at school ever since he wandered off campus during recess to run after a stray kickball back in kindergarten. His principal was well aware that three weeks was also the length of the time that Ye-jun’s father had been in the hospital. Eight-year-old Ye-jun, however, failed to make that connection and admonished himself inwardly for not behaving like a big boy, the way his daddy wants him to. 

“Ye-jun, I’ll have to call your mother because you have misbehaved. She’ll have to come to the office so we can let her know what you’ve done.” The principal braced himself for what he knew would come next:

“P-please don’t tell my mommy! I’m sorry for making fun of Oscar for missing all of the answers on the math test! Please --” At this point, what Ye-jun was saying became unintelligible because his begging devolved into the full-body sobs of a sensitive and scared child. The principal stood up and soothed the child. Meanwhile, Min-so was receiving a call from Ye-jun’s school. 

Min-so stood up from her desk and let her boss know that there was an emergency at her son’s school. She gathered her things and drove to the elementary school. 

While driving, she thought about what her baby boy might have been feeling. She understood that his recent bouts of misbehavior were certainly associated with his father’s recent and indefinite absence. However, she refused to expose her child to the sight of his father, unconscious, in a hospital bed, recognizing how that could possibly make things worse for her dear boy. Funnily enough, these worries weren’t new for Min-so. Just weeks before the accident, she had been wondering how her son might respond if she told him that his mommy didn’t want to be married to his daddy anymore. Unbuckling her seatbelt, and rubbing her temple with her free hand, Min-so grabbed her purse, exited her car, and headed for the principal’s office. 

* * *

Yawning and stretching his muscles, Phichit rubbed his right eye, forgetting that he had applied liquid eyeliner less than five minutes ago.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, at first considering running to bathroom and wiping it off, but then he realized: he was going to be checking on a patient who was in a persistent coma.

Entering the room, Phichit checked Mr. Lee’s breathing tube -- apparently Dr. Celestino thought that he had required a ventilator long enough to warrant receiving a tracheotomy, which meant that Mr. Lee now had a breathing tube placed inside his windpipe. Next, he washed his hands and checked the poor guy’s catheter, ensuring that the tubing was clean and that the collection bag was not overly full. 

Whenever there was a coma patient in the ICU, Phichit couldn’t help but wonder what their lives were like before their stay in the hospital. Did they have a loving family? A nice home? A good job? Was anyone waiting for them to wake up and come back to life as usual? Mr. Lee, in particular, intrigued Phichit, but the nurse wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps it was the way the patient’s wife acted: as though she was secretly relieved that her husband was here at the hospital, and not at home with her. Or… 

Maybe it was Mr. Lee’s dark hair and pink lips that caught Phichit’s attention. He was obviously an attractive man, one who Phichit would have certainly approached if their paths had crossed under more opportune circumstances. There was something about his expressionless, peaceful face that caused Phichit to look forward to attending to this patient much more than was professional. But it’s not like Phichit was attracted to a dead man. No, there was wealth of life that emanated from Mr. Lee’s resting body that would be incapable of coming from anything other than a body and soul who had lived and known more than any other. It was inexplicable, but whenever Phichit left that hospital room, he felt as though he were sobering up from an intoxicating dream. 

That afternoon, on October 29, 2018, in a subtle, yet drastic transition, Seung-gil Lee stepped out of his coma and into a vegetative state. Unconscious and unaware, he opened his eyes for the first time since the accident. 

Phichit, realizing that he had left some paperwork inside of Mr. Lee’s room, walked in and stopped in his tracks.  _ Even unconscious,  _ he thought,  _ Mr. Lee’s dark eyes are remarkably beautiful _ . 

Inside his jacket pocket, Phichit’s phone buzzed. He never responded.

* * *

Yuuri Katsuki often felt like the luckiest man alive. He had a nice apartment whose rent wasn’t too high, a steady and fulfilling career at a publishing office, a wonderful and well-trained poodle, and the best fianc é in the world. He also felt enormously grateful to have Phichit Chulanont as his best friend. However, he often worried about his friend.

“Viktor, I’m scared for Phichit. The other night, while we were having our monthly movie-night, Chris came over -- ” Viktor interrupted:

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that, Yuuri. Why do you have such a bone to pick with Chris?” Viktor asked, slicing a hardboiled egg to place in the garden salad he was preparing.

“Vitya,” Yuuri addressed his  fianc é sternly, though he softened the hard edge of his tone with the term of endearment. “You know what type of person Chris is. He’s a celebrity who’s constantly traveling and he receives a lot of attention from --” Yuuri paused to check and see if his grilled chicken was cooking properly. “That might not be good for Phichit, considering what happened when he gave up skating. Viktor, I know Chris is your friend, but I care too much about Phichit to see him get his heart broken  _ again _ .”

Viktor stepped over to where Yuuri was standing in front of the stove. “I understand what you’re saying, babe. If you want, I can talk to Chris about it. I’ll make sure to warn him that he’ll have to face your wrath if he hurts Phich, too,” Viktor wrapped his arms around Yuuri from behind and pulled his  fianc é close.

“Thanks, Vitya.” And this time, there was only warmth in his voice while saying his lover’s name.


	4. Huswifery / An Unresponsive & Unkind Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the midst of these harrowing circumstances, Min-so reminisces about more joyful times. Chris thinks about what he wants.

One Friday afternoon after dropping Ye-jun off at his friend from school’s birthday party/sleepover, upon finding herself alone and with nothing to do, Min-so decided to visit Seung-gil at the hospital. 

By now, Seung-gil had been in a vegetative state for about two weeks. Ever since he emerged from the tight, clammy grip of the coma, his eyes had begun opening without rhyme or reason, he sometimes thrashed around in the bed, and at times he wore an intense smile or frown. All of Seung-gil’s movements and expressions were involuntary, of course, but Min-so was unsettled and frightened by his behavior after sitting in the room with him for a little over half an hour.

Currently, Seung-gil was undergoing a fitful bout. Min-so exited the room until his thrashing ceased. For some reason, seeing him like this reminded Min-so of a much different time in her life:

_ A little lightheaded from the smell of fresh paint, Seung-gil and Min-so decided to take a break and lie on the floor. Earlier that day, Seung-gil, bored and tired of socializing, had snuck out from a family gathering and started painting the baby’s nursery. After her family left, Min-so joined him. Though the gathering was not a baby shower, Min-so’s relatives had insisted on bringing toys and supplies for the newlyweds’ little girl.  _

_ Around the young couple lay a number of new toys, each one a different shade of pastel pink. A bulk package of diapers were at Seung-gil’s feet, which he inadvertently kicked when Min-so sat up and began tickling him. He laughed, she laughed, and he began tickling her, too. Min-so, more ticklish than her husband, let out a laugh that only someone who loved her deeply could appreciate. She remembered it being one of the things that helped her fall for Seung-gil; most men she’d dated agreed that her awkward, squawky laugh was unattractive. Seung-gil, however, seemed to drink it up thirstily. He kept tickling her as though her laughs filled pools of joy that he wanted to swim in.  _

_ Min-so, her sides sore from all the laughing, exclaimed, “Seung-gil, stop!’ _

_ “And why should I?” He grinned _

_ “Because. It’s making my stomach hurt.” She pat her belly protectively, giving a coy smile. _

_ “Well I don’t want that. I guess I’ll stop then.” He crouched over, taking the sides of her stomach in his hands. He began pressing tiny kisses onto her not-yet swollen belly. He looked up at her, his smiling eyes crinkling at the corners.  _

_ Min-so couldn’t recall having ever been happier. _

Again, Min-so thought she ought to have been crying, but no tears came. Besides, that had been more than ten years ago. A lot had changed between her and Seung-gil since then.

* * *

Chris Giacometti wasn’t terribly familiar with the intricacies of dating. Between being unable to date as a closeted teenager, choosing a profession that required him to constantly be traveling, and being seemingly incapable of committing fully to long term relationships, Chris didn’t have the best track record when it came to maintaining healthy relationships. He wasn’t proud of the fact that the extent of his knowledge in dating and love came mostly from one-night stands and short-lived but whirlwind romances. If he were being completely honest with himself, his arrangement with Phichit had been the most stable and consistent romantic connection Chris had ever had. Which is why he was so hurt that Phichit didn’t seem to want to pick up any of his calls.

Chris paused in the middle of removing his glasses and looked Viktor straight in the eye, realizing that he hadn’t been listening closely enough to what Viktor was saying. “Yuuri said  _ what _ about me and Phichit?”

“Just that he was worried about you and Phichit making your relationship more serious, is all.” Viktor avoided agitating his friend, who was especially touchy when it came to Phichit today, and so he skirted around Yuuri’s exact words. Apparently, Phichit had ignored a couple of his calls.

Almost petulantly, Chris whined, “Why does Yuuri act like I’m some indecisive kid who doesn’t know what I want?” Makkachin, Viktor and Yuuri’s adorable poodle pawed at Chris’s lap. Chris invited the dog onto the couch with him. “I like Phichit  _ a lot _ , and I have for a long time.” He pet the dog between his ears. “It’s just that now -- for the first time -- it seems like Phichit and I can  _ actually  _ be together, and y’know,  _ last _ .” Chris crossed his arms. Makkachin whined, sensing annoyance in his body language. Chris unfolded his arms and continued petting the dog.

“Chris, I honestly think both you and Yuuri want the same thing for Phichit and that you’re both letting your opinions of each other get in the way of seeing that.” Viktor spoke the same way he did when he spoke to his high school students whenever they got into verbal disagreements, with a firm tone that made the listener feel like they were being parented.

After sighing, Chris backed down. “I guess you’re right, Viktor. Sorry if it seemed like I was being rude towards Yuuri. I understand that he’s your  fianc é, and that it might put you in an awkward position if I complain about him to you.” Viktor nodded and admired his friend’s show of maturity.  _ If Yuuri heard him talking like this, there’s no way he’d be worried about Chris pursuing something with Phichit, _ Viktor thought, smiling to himself, satisfied to know that he was right about Chris being good for Phichit. He chose to ignore what Chris said next.

“You should tell your fiancé to mind his own damn business, though.”

Chris’s phone rang; his ringtone was one of the more sensual songs from his most recent free skate. Viktor laughed.

“Dude, you have got to change your ringtone from that porno music,”

“Shhh! It’s Phichit,” Chris stood up and walked to another room to talk in private. Makkachin jumped from the couch and looked around in the curious way dogs do when someone makes a sudden, unexpected movement. Viktor smiled and shook his head, deciding that he might as well get up and take the dog for an afternoon walk if Chris would be leaving soon.

* * *

Still outside the hospital room, Min-so noticed her husband’s young nurse chatting cheerfully on the cellphone with someone. He smiled often, and giggled and blushed like a lovesick schoolgirl. She looked on with curiosity.

“Oh, okay. So we’ll meet up tonight at my place? Okay, cool!” Phichit chirped. He gave a quick but sweet farewell to whoever he had been speaking to, hung up the phone, put it away, and glanced around as if suddenly remembering who and where he was. He put on an air of professionality and headed in Min-so’s direction.

“Oh, hi, Ms. Park! Is everything alright today?”

“Yes. Um, Seung-gil’s having a fit right now though, so… “

“Ah, I see,” He said, peering into the hospital room. “Are you leaving just now, or?” He asked, looking her in the eyes again. Phichit found Min-so to be an attractive woman, though a bit severe-looking. He thought she and Seung-gil matched well as a couple.

“Yes, I think I’ll get going now, actually,” Oddly enough, Min-so found herself wanting to cry. It felt as though the young man standing before her now were a physical manifestation of her once happy married life and it was necessary that she leave his vicinity  _ now. _

Min-so left, and Phichit entered th e hospital room. Somehow, when Phichit entered, Seung-gil was lying peacefully.


	5. Lovelife / Seized by an Overwhelming Disgust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit considers the differences between himself and Chris; he hopes that their love can triumph over that what separates them.

Phichit fiddled with his collar, taking a sip of his lemon water. He stabbed a lettuce leaf with his fork, carried it into his mouth, and looked boredly into the distance. His eyes fell to a pair of people sitting a couple of tables away from him and Chris. One of them was an older man, and the other was a considerably younger woman. They were both dressed much nicer than himself. Phichit pulled at his collar again, and by now, Chris was coming back.  _ Maybe we need to talk about the difference in our salaries later on, _ though Phichit. He hoped Chris didn’t expect him to take  _ him _ on many dates to fancy restaurants. Phichit’s wallet would not like that much.

“Oh nice, they brought our salads out,” he observed.

“Yup,” said Phichit, wondering why Chris decided to take them to such a fancy restaurant. He felt his feet sweating uncomfortably inside his cheap shoes, something that always happened when he got nervous. 

Chris took a sip of his wine and smiled softly at Phichit. 

“I chose this place after Masumi recommended it,” Chris said for no reason in particular. For an awkward, irrationally stressful moment, it made Phichit feel as though Chris could hear his thoughts. 

“Masumi recommended an Italian restaurant?” Phichit asked, surprised Chris’s agent would recommend a restaurant whose menu consisted primarily of carb-filled foods, especially considering that Chris’s coach, Josef, had placed Chris on a pretty strict skater’s diet for much of his career.

“Are you surprised? Masumi used to sneak me fancy Belgian chocolates from his family’s shop when I first hired him. I was still a kid back then, though.”

“It’s a wonder Josef doesn’t hate him at this point,” Phichit said, a bit speculatively. He nibbled on a bread roll.

“Well, you know. Josef’s loosened up the reigns a bit as I’ve gotten older. Besides, I’m not competitive anymore.” When Chris finished his sentence, their waiter brought their meals to their table. They both thanked the waiter, and he left. “But enough about Masumi and Josef. How have things been at work, Phich? Is Dr. Celestino doing alright? What is it you guys called him? ‘Ciao-ciao’?”

Phichit laughed and smiled a little, happy that Chris remembered the dumb nickname he and his coworkers had given to Dr. Celestino. Instead of spooning another forkful of pasta into his mouth, Phichit responded to the question.

“Ciao-ciao’s doing all right. You know, he’s gonna be having a grandkid soon?”

“Oh, really? That’s great! I’m happy for him,” Chris managed to squeak out without his voice being muffled by the remnants of his previous bite of pasta.

The rest of their meal went similarly, the pair discussing their jobs, friends, and family and enjoying their meals. Though, of course, they enjoyed each other’s company more.

* * *

Min-so, having been born and raised in the United States by Korean-American parents who were also raised in the States, had adopted a hodge-podge mix of cultural customs, which led to certain habits that might have seemed odd to strangers. Whenever asked about her cultural identity she’d put it simply: although she insisted that others remove their shoes upon entering her home, she still preferred the all-American meal of burgers and fries over kimchi and rice. Because of her preference for American food, Min-so never quite got the hang of many Korean recipes. Which is why tonight, she and her son were preparing the rather “un-Korean” meal of skillet-roasted steak and potatoes.

“Ye-jun, can you wash and peel the potatoes for Mommy, please?”

The boy nodded eagerly, first washing his hands, then grabbing the potato peeler from where his mother had set it for him. In the process of seasoning the beef, Min-so thought about what she might have been doing right now if Seung-gil were home. He would have either been in the kitchen with her, helping to cook, or, at the table with Ye-jun, going over his math problems and reading. For a second, she felt a pang of loneliness hit her heart, but it left as soon as it came. She felt it would be best not to let herself get too upset.  _ What would be the point? _ She asked herself.  _ I have my home, and I have Ye-jun here with me, happy and healthy. Why should I want anything or worry at all? _

Thinking like that helped Min-so to keep going. It wasn’t smart to let the feeling of sadness linger in your heart too long, or else it might grow too large and cause your heart to burst.

During the meal, though, Min-so couldn’t help but wonder how her son was feeling about his father’s prolonged absence. 

“Ye-jun, do you miss your daddy?” Ye-jun set down his fork, looking at his mom as though he had been expecting her to ask that question as much as he had been expecting her to grow another head and start crawling on the ceiling.

“I do miss Daddy. Do you know when he’ll be coming back?”

“No, I’m sorry,” she admitted, frowning. She watched her son go back to eating. He was an adorable kid, really. He looked much like Seung-gil did in his childhood pictures, though a little less aloof. Ye-jun had always had curious, bright eyes that readily swole with tears. The only obvious feature he shared with his mother was his dark, curly hair. Otherwise, he was the spitting image of his father. So much so it broke Min-so’s heart to look at him sometimes.

* * *

After finishing their meals, Phichit and Chris walked outside hand in hand in no specific direction. Neither had any important plans for the next day, so both were happy to stroll aimlessly together. Phichit couldn’t have been much happier. This was the type of thing he had fantasized about back when Chris had first started showing interest in him. 

Phichit was twenty when he first competed at the Grand Prix Final. He was the first Thai skater to compete at such a high level competition, and so no one was upset when he came in last. His friends and family were only proud at first. But the next year, his performance wasn’t much better. Rather than embarrassing himself a third time at an international competition, Phichit decided to give up competitive skating for good. Instead, he chose to pursue his lifelong dream of opening a skating rink in his home country. His ultimate goal had always been to popularize ice skating in Thailand, and his newfound fame had finally given him the opportunity. During the first year and a half, business was great. However, the number of visitors steadily began to dwindle, and Phichit, embarrassed, decided to leave Thailand and go lick his wounds in America. Luckily, his family was understanding and kind enough to provide the money necessary for their wayward son to go through nursing school. Despite his failures, Phichit was extremely grateful to his family and to Yuuri, all of whom supported him at a time when his life lacked really any direction.

Pretty much everything from the previous phase of Phichit’s life had been taken care of and wrapped up with a neat little bow. Well, everything except for his relationship with Chris. 

It would have been hard for them to date when Phichit was still skating, considering they lived in different countries and had to deal with different training schedules. However, Phichit’s fall from grace in competitive skating added a level of shame that he had to work through if he wanted to be with Chris. But now, with Chris living in Detroit and officially retired from competitive skating, now was a better time than ever for them to  _ finally  _ experience dating like a pair of normal people. 

Phichit stopped walking and pulled Chris close against him. While kissing him, Phichit thought to himself:  _ and nothing will stop me from relishing every second of this _ .


	6. Religious Tales/What’s Extinct Might Come Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Min-so and Seung-gil's marriage had been doomed from the start.

“Hey, Phich?” asked Phichit’s co-worker Yvette.

“What’s up, Eve?” 

“I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be at work next week,” she said. Phichit sensed some sadness in her voice.

“Oh, why?”

“My grandma isn’t doing too well. She wants to see me before she passes, so I’m gonna be in Senegal for a while,” 

Phichit’s jaw dropped slightly, he hadn’t been expecting that answer. 

“Oh my God, Yvette. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

Phichit’s own grandparents had all passed away by the time he had reached college, and Phichit had always wondered what his maternal grandmother would have said if she had lived to see him skate professionally. She had been the one who gave him his first pair of ice skates, and she was the one who had convinced his parents to send him off to training school in Detroit as a teenager. Even though his skating career had failed, spending those two years in Detroit as a teen had been the greatest decision of Phichit’s life so far. There, he had met Yuuri and discovered how huge the world is. Thanks to his grandmother, Phichit became acutely aware of how much opportunity a person has simply by being alive and conscious.

“Well, Yvette, I hope your trip goes well, and I pray for the health of you and your family.”

“Thank you, Phich. Well, I guess I’ll see you later,” said Yvette. Her shift was ending just as Phichit’s had begun. The sadness from before lingered in the break-room, so Phichit left and began making his rounds.

* * *

For Min-so, visiting Seung-gil’s hospital room had begun to feel like more and more of a chore. There was no real reason for her to continue to visit, but seeing his face on a regular basis gave Min-so a sense of normalcy. Besides, it would have felt odd for her not to visit him. She’d spent over a decade with Seung-gil, and though she did not feel the same way for him as she had all those years ago, she was still accustomed to having him around. Seung-gil being gone felt almost as it would if someone took half the stars out the sky. Min-so didn’t care about the constellations, so the night sky wouldn’t look all that different to her. But she would still feel like something was missing anyhow.

Min-so sat at the bedside chair and held her head in her hands. She looked at Seung-gil; he was being surprisingly still today. Most stories about coma patients, Min-so noticed, say that the patients just look like they’re sleeping soundly. But Min-so disagreed. Seung-gil was never quite so still when he slept. And his hands had never been quite so cold. Min-so wondered how much longer she wanted to keep Seung-gil on the ventilator. 

She didn’t stay much longer at the hospital before leaving. She had a guest at home tonight.

* * *

_ October, 2015. _

_ Finding herself in a window-seat at a local coffee-shop, Min-so stared out the window. The person who was accompanying her on this impromptu excursion was none other than Noor Tahan, Min-so’s closest friend from university.  _

_ Noor was standing across the shop, waiting for her afternoon tea and for Min-so’s slice of pumpkin bread -- no nuts -- at the counter. Unsurprisingly, not much about Noor’s appearance had changed in the almost-a-decade that had passed since they saw each other last. As Noor made her way to their table by the window, tea and pumpkin bread in tow, Min-so smiled softly at her former roommate. She still wore her curly brown hair in loose, low bun. She still refused to wear any more makeup than a smidge of mascara and tinted lip balm. And Min-so still found herself as comforted by her friend’s presence as she had all those years ago. _

_ “I made sure to get you a slice without nuts, by the way,” Noor said. She stirred her tea. She held the cup beneath her nose, inhaling the scent of black tea and honey. Before pinching off a piece of her bread slice, Min-so gestured the bread in Noor’s direction, offering a piece without words. Noor shook her head. _

_ “So, Min-so. I see you’ve still got your ring. You and Seung-gil actually ended up working out, huh?” Noor didn’t make eye contact; she looked out the window and took a sip of tea. Min-so thought for a second that her eyes looked kind of sad but didn’t mention that observation. _

_ “Yeah. I’m almost surprised he and I lasted after graduation, you know what they say about people who marry right out of college.” _

_ “Boy, do I.” _

_ Min-so stiffened. She was happy to see her friend, but… She hadn’t thought that all they’d do is rehash the disagreement that ended their friendship.  _

_ “C’mon, Noor. Let’s not talk about Seung-gil if you’re still upset about what happened. How’s your family doing? How are things with your father?” Noor un-tensed with the subject-change and was happy to answer Min-so’s question with good news. _

_ “Things are a lot better. He’s talking to me now, but he still wants me to find a good, Muslim husband. At this rate, though, I’d think he’d be satisfied if I at least brought home a Muslim  _ girl _. He and Mom are worried I’ll be single forever, I guess.” They both laughed.  _

_ “I’m really happy to hear that you and your dad are on better terms now, though. I remember how rough it was for you when we were younger and he found out that, y’know…” said Min-so. She’d remembered how she’d had to comfort Noor on several occasions after a phone-call or a family visit gone wrong when they were younger. _

_ “Yeah, well, things are a lot better now. He doesn’t entirely understand me, but progress is progress. Speaking of which, Min-so?” _

_ Min-so’s eyebrows raised. _

_ “Did I ever properly thank you for all that you did for me back then? I was sorta a wreck during college, I can’t really blame Seung-gil for not wanting you around me, looking back on it all…” Noor’s voice dwindled. _

_ “What do you mean by that?” asked Min-so, curious. _

_ “Well, looking back, I had been kind of in love with you. And I think Seung-gil could tell. I don’t think it’s his fault anymore.” _


	7. To Notice the Moon Only for the Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe things are looking up for Phichit and Chris.

When he woke up, Chris rubbed the crud out of his green eyes, yawned, stretched, and then noticed that his bed was less warm than it should have been. Then, he noticed the smell of something yummy coming from his kitchen. Making an effort to keep quiet, Chris rolled out of bed and tiptoed out of his room.

From his bedroom door, Chris tenderly gazed upon his lover. Everything about the scene before him reeked of domesticity, and somehow, it didn’t make Chris want to puke. Not even a little. Phichit stood in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. Upon noticing that his boyfriend was wearing only boxers, a night robe, and hamster slippers, Chris smiled in a way that can only be described as lovesick. A tiny voice from within told Chris that he should have been uncomfortable with this development in their relationship, and  _ besides _ , he thought,  _ moments like this only happen in shitty romcoms as a way for the writers to manipulate the audience into admiring a romantic couple’s closeness.  _ However, this cynical thought did not manage to sway Chris from being pleased with how well his relationship with Phichit was going. They had been seeing each other regularly for the past month, and from an outside perspective, it might have seemed like they were moving too fast. That didn’t bother Chris, though.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Phichit said, setting his and Chris’s plates at the dinner table. “Are you gonna stand there all morning, or do you wanna come and eat this breakfast your boyfriend made you?” he asked. Chris shut his bedroom door behind him.

“Good morning, Phich.” Chris let out before taking Phichit’s lips in a quick kiss. They smiled against each other’s mouths before pulling apart and pulling up their seats at the table. 

“Thanks for making breakfast, babe. You didn’t have to, you know?”

“Well, yeah. But I know that it makes you happy. Besides, are you complaining?”

“Pfft. Absolutely not.” Chris proved his gratitude and took a big bite of his chocolate chip pancakes. Josef would freak if he saw him right now. The thought somehow made the carb-filled food even yummier. His massive sweet tooth had been the bane of his skater’s diet. 

“So,” Phichit began, spooning some fruit into his mouth. “Has Masumi found you any work here yet?” At the mention of work, Chris made a faux, exaggerated frown.

“He’s looking to see if I can do anything in entertainment. You know, reality shows, talk-show guest appearances, stuff like that.”

“Really?” Phichit asked, a little surprised that Chris would be interested in something as soulless as reality TV. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s not ideal, but making a few TV appearances in the US would let me spend more time here in Detroit than if I were to keep doing international ice shows. Also, Masumi thinks I might be able to use my public image as a playboy to my advantage in reality TV.” Phichit, still unconvinced, frowned a little. Chris finished his last bite of pancake.

“Phich. It’s okay. I’m not taking on anything too big. Masumi said that I’ll make a few red-carpet appearances here and there, just enough so that no one forgets about me as a skater anytime soon. It’s not like they’ll forget about me anytime soon in Switzerland. Masumi just wants me to stay relevant internationally.”

“Okay. I support you, Chris. You, of all people, know that it is not my place at all to be unsupportive of change in career paths.” After saying this, Phichit chuckled a little self-deprecatingly. Chris smiled and reached across the table. He took Phichit’s left hand in his own, hoping to end this dull segment of their conversation. He brought the hand to his lips, pressing several small kisses into Phichit’s brown skin.

“Stop apologizing, Phich. Anyways, do you know how beautiful you are, baby? Last night was wonderful… I didn’t know anyone could make me feel the way that you do.” While saying this, Phichit felt Chris’s lips brush against his knuckle. First, Phichit noticed the heat against his cold hand. Then, he noticed the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Chris,” said Phichit. “You’re being so cheesy.” He pressed his free hand to his right cheek, hoping to cool the warmth rising there. 

“You love it when I’m cheesy,  _ mon chou _ .”

“What made last night so different from every other time we’ve had sex?” He tried to play it cool, hoping Chris couldn’t tell how much the praise had been affecting him.

“Oh? Last night wasn’t special for you, Phich? I apologize, I must be off my game, then.” Chris said, as if scolding himself inwardly for poor sexual performance. He let go of Phichit’s hand, stood up, and walked over to Phichit’s side of the table. Taking Phichit into his arms, and pressing their bodies against each other, Chris said, “Allow me to make it up to you, then.” 

Phichit smiled at his boyfriend’s antics, playing along with the charade. He might have rolled his eyes at Chris’s theatrics had he not been so happy to resume the previous evening’s activities.


End file.
